Tell the Wolves I’m Home (by Carol Rifka Brunt)

Along with 9 other novels, Carol Rifka Brunt’s Tell the Wolves I’m home is a 2013 Alex Award winner. For those not in the know, the Alex Awards are given to “ten books written for adults that have special appeal to young adults, ages 12 through 18.” Last year, for instance, Erin Morgenstern’s The Night Circus was one of the winners and the year before Steve Hamilton’s The Lock Artist also made the list.

It’s 1986 and 14-year-old June Elbus grows up in New York with her older sister Greta – who she’s slowly drifted apart from – and her accountant parents. Not having inherited her parent’s love for numbers, or her sister’s acting talent or outgoing personality, June has always found solace in her Uncle and godfather Finn, a talented and well-renowned artist. Now, however, Finn is dying of AIDS. One of his last wishes is to paint his two nieces and his sister in a painting he will call “Tell the wolves I’m home”. When the inevitable happens, June is overwhelmed with both grief and the memory of her strong feelings for her Uncle. When she meets Toby, Finn’s boyfriend who the rest of her family blames for Finn’s death, they soon form a friendship. Together they mourn Finn and provide each other with the support they can’t get anywhere else.

Set in New York in the 1980s, with the AIDS epidemic at its frightening peak pivotal to a clear understanding of the novel, Tell the Wolves I’m Home might at first glance not be an easy sell to young adults looking for a quick fix. However, the combination of an enchanting and memorable main character (June tells the story retrospectively) and a heart-breaking family (and love) story will win over many of them.

Brunt has created a complex family history here, and obviously the story is tragic and will have many a reader reach out for that box of Kleenex on the bedside table. Is this the best book the cat’s read this year so far? No, not by a long shot. However, the book is suitably tearjerky and Carol Rifka Brunt clearly has talent setting mood and developing character. The book’s pacing, on the other hand, could have been better and clocking in at 400 pages (paperback edition), it’s just meandering along a whole while to its inevitable conclusion and when a book starts to drag and becomes repetitive, you know it’s really just too long. That being said, Tell the Wolves I’m Home is a solid debut novel by a very promising author!

In Darkness (by Nick Lake)

In 2010 Haiti, one of the poorest countries in the world, fell victim to a catastrophic natural disaster that affected an inestimable amount of people. With a death toll ranging anywhere between 92,000 and 316,000 people, the Haiti earthquake got the doubtful honor of being the 2^nd deadliest earthquake ever. It is in the aftermath of this devastating tragedy that Nick Lake’s In Darkness – the 2012 Michael L. Printz Award Winner – is set.

In the days after the earthquake, 15-year-old everyboy Shorty – his real name is never mentioned – is trapped in darkness in the rubble of a hospital room where he was recovering from a bullet wound. At 15 Shorty’s life could indeed have been any slum boy’s life. Shorty is growing up in what is often called the most dangerous place on earth – the slums of Site Solèy. This is the type of place where you see your father brutally murdered in front of your eyes and where your twin sister is kidnapped by gang members when you’re 8, where you kill your first man at the age of 12 and where babies are left behind in the trash.

Slowly dying of hunger and thirst Shorty, without any prospect of being rescued, is recollecting the events that led him to the hospital room. Like so many other children in the shanty towns of Port-au-Prince, Shorty’s childhood was one of violence with (almost) no chance of escaping a life of drugs, gang wars and (political) corruption. After his father gets killed and his twin sister Marguerite is taken away Shorty even wants to be initiated into the gang of the pro-Aristide chimères of Route 9 and the notorious Dread Wilmè to get his sister back. Trapped in the darkness of the quake rubble he also starts dreaming of (or getting visions about…) the legendary Toussaint de l’Ouverture, who will provide the other voice in this dual narrative.

While Shorty’s story is a story of a boy losing his innocence in Haiti’s present, and a descent into the darkness of violence, brutality and even murder, Toussaint de l’Ouverture’s story (set more than 200 years earlier) is that of a man who wants to achieve a free Haiti, a Haiti free of the darkness that is slavery, in this in the least bloody way possible. Shorty and de l’Ouverture are linked in a spiritual way, be it through dreams or visions, or by vodou. It’s a device in which Nick Lake uses his poetic license to the full, and it is at the same time a clever incorporation of Haitian culture and religion (which takes the novice some getting used to). Through de l’Ouverture Shorty experiences what it means to set a country on track to hope and the light. De l’Ouverture, on the other hand, gets visions of a future of his country – one in which freedom from slavery does not equal happiness and riches, but violence, poverty, rivalry, corruption and in essence just another type of darkness.

In Darkness draws heavily on the Haitian vodou culture – Shorty and Marguerite are marassa,  the metaphor of the zombi is used throughout the two narratives – and Nick Lake uses Krèyol phrases and expressions all through the book (which are often but not always translated). This obviously serves to immerse the reader completely into this other world, but it might have been a good idea to add a glossary with some of the most commonly used Krèyol words and expressions. The cat found herself interrupting her reading to look up certain things, consequently losing some of the reading flow…

However, notwithstanding this minor squabble, the strength of Nick Lake’s novel is obvious. Lake doesn’t deal in pleasantries and states the ugly brutal truth of a country that longs to be free but has as of yet not found the right way to make itself truly free: politics invariable turns to corrupt governing, international aid does not reach its intended goal with aid workers often adding to the corruption, violent gangs recruit the illiterate and most vulnerable… The result is poverty leading to violence leading to more poverty leading to more violence. It’s a terrifying idea, and it’s hard to believe that any form of hope for recovery and true emancipation is still possible in places like this. Considering how desolate the circumstances still are in Haiti – 2 years after the earthquake – the cat is not as convinced as Nick Lake himself seems to be that redemption is still possible. Maybe with a couple more stories of people like Shorty and we’ll start to see a few glimmers of hope here and there… maybe…

In Darkness was the 2012 Michael L. Printz Award winner… an unexpected winner for sure, and it would not have landed on the cat’s desk if it hadn’t won the Printz. Many had bet on Code Name Verity or The Fault in Our Stars for a variety of reasons. To be honest, I don’t think that In Darkness has more or less literary merit than either of those two novels. The Printz committee does, however, seem to like “atypical” narration. But these three books are so completely different that any form or comparison is sort of mute. It all boils down to personal preference in the end of course, and if historical and cultural awareness rocks your boat on top of that “unusual” narration, then obviously In Darkness or Code Name Verity will be your top picks. The cat, however, wants to add an additional dollop of awesome to the mix…

Revolution (by Jennifer Donnelly)

Thoroughly enchanted with two of Donnelly’s previous works, the cat expected to love Revolution equally as  much. Alas, there were too many kinks here that prevented her to really like this book and give it anything more than a 3-star rating. The standout element in Revolution is still Donnelly’s lush prose, which admittedly sometimes crosses over into the overly dramatic. For some this is an annoyance they won’t be able to get past, but if you read a Victorian novel once in a while, you’ll see it’s really not that different from those exploits, so this is definitely something the cat can live with. Also, Donnelly can pull off the multiple point of view with pizzazz… Donnelly has given her two protagonists a distinct voice, bringing out the differences in the two girls (even though both are angsty in their own way). However… the characters she came up with in Revolution just don’t hold up.

First there’s Andi – gothic teen angst is my middle name. She’s 17, a senior at the most snobbish Brooklyn high school imaginable (seriously do these school exist besides on Gossip Girl?), but because her father thinks she has to work on her senior thesis rather than mope around and mourn her dead brother Truman and drown her sorrow in her music, he takes her off to Paris, where Andi almost coincidentally discovers the diary of the 18^th century Alex(andrine) who witnessed the French Revolution first hand. This is where Revolution turns into a historical novel linking Andi’s (not so quiet) revolution to that of Alexandrine’s, but Donnelly wouldn’t be Donnelly if she didn’t throw in a romance.

At first the two plotlines are woven together quite believably, but the whole books takes a turn for the supernatural towards the last quarter, which completely killed all previous (mild) enjoyment. Talk about a twist in the tale! Buzzkill! Revolution felt like a book by an author who lost herself in her own story and just didn’t find an out… Maybe Donnelly needed Andi’s precious key here? Donnelly has also never been a very sparse writer, which means that the flaws are just so blatant,… something the cat could definitely overlook in The Tea Rose, but not so much in Revolution, unfortunately…

The Wednesday Wars (by Gary D. Schmidt)

Gary D. Schmidt is a two-time Newbery Honor winner. Given that he also has a Printz Honor on his long résumé, he’d be the foremost author to ask what it takes to score with award committees across the board. If The Wednesday Wars is anything to go by, though, it is probably a combination of wholesome characters, lots of cross-over appeal and an eagerness to show the contemporary relevance of history.

It’s 1967 and Holling Hoodhood is probably the unluckiest 7^th grader on Long Island. On Wednesday afternoon, his classmates are off doing religious studies, while he’s stuck with his teacher Mrs Baker who hates his guts: “If your last name ended in ‘berg’ or ‘zog’ or ‘stein,’ you lived on the north side. If your last name ended in ‘elli’ or ‘ini’ or ‘o,’ you lived on the south side.” So half of the kids his class are off to Hebrew school, while the the rest of the kinds are attending Catholic school. Holling’s Perfect House, though, is smack in the middle of town, also making him the only Presbyterian in his class, hence the getting stuck with Mrs Baker part of his life. She makes him do chores, like cleaning the class rats’ cages (a job that ends rather badly with Sycorax and Caliban escaping and running havoc throughout the novel!) and (the horror!) read Shakespeare!  After an unfortunate event involving said rats and cream puffs, Holling ends up having to play fairy Ariel in a local theatre production of The Tempest wearing yellow tights with white feathers on his butt!  Now, I don’t know about you, but any author who can make Shakespeare laugh out loud funny, and who can mock The Bard the way Holling does… gets an extra star from the cat, because Shakespeare and the cat = not the best of friends!

The Wednesday Wars is the smart type of Historical Fiction. Although the time is clearly 1967 – the Vietnam war, Bobby Kennedy, Mickey Mantle and the New York Yankees, all play a pivotal role in the book – what makes this book so enjoyable (even despite the historical references) is the humor that permeates the entire book. Schmidt is a master story-teller who paints an almost perfect picture of a family that isn’t so perfect despite them living in The Perfect House, and a boy who is still innocent enough to tell things as he sees them. The slightly skewed point of view (is there any other??) here is key to the charm of this book.

The Wednesday Wars is also a book that has to grow on you. It’s almost deceptively sweet and innocent, which is probably why lots of reviewers think this is more of a book for grown ups, than a book for middle graders. Toads, beetles, bats. This is a book that has lots and lots of layers, only one of which is “the history”. A kid at 10 will love the way Holling tries to outsmart Mrs Baker regarding the Shakespeare, or when the rats escape, or the cream puffs fiasco, or the…  A teen at 15 will totally get the relationship Holling has with his father, and the relationship his sister has with his father. And a grown up at 25 or 35 or 45 will get yet other things out of this book. The Wednesday Wars is a book for all ages. Chrysanthemum!

Dead End in Norvelt (by Jack Gantos)

Jack Gantos is the odd one out when it comes to (children’s books) writers. In his 2003 award-winning autobiographical (YA) novel, Hole in My Life, he lays out how he helped smuggle a ton of hashish from the Virgin Islands to New York City, but was later caught by federal agents, and consequently landed himself in jail. The money he’d supposedly gain from this illegal activity – $10 000 – would about just cover his college tuition money (Gantos wanted to go to a school with a good writing program), so an ideal way to get out of a precarious situation.

Dead End in Norvelt follows the same (semi-)autobiographical vein. Blurbed as a book “melding the entirely true and the wildly fictional”, it features an 11-year-old boy called Jack Gantos, who grows up in the small Pennsylvania town of Norvelt in the 1960s, a town built during the Depression as a model community for poor coalmining families and named after Eleanor Roosevelt. In the summer when he turns twelve, Jack is grounded for life because he accidentally fired a bullet from his dad’s Japanese WWII rifle, but most of all, because he went against his mom’s wishes when he cut down her corn crop (his dad needed it for a landing strip!). While mom thinks that the family’s future lies in Norvelt, his dad – a WWII veteran and self-proclaimed commie hater (btw, Jack’s dad is also building a bomb shelter!) – feels that the family should move to Florida to find better opportunities and because “someday [he wanted] to live a life where [he] won’t be bullied by [his] wallet. The only way to get at least a little bit out of his summer is when Jack helps out (or has to help out!) his neighbor, Miss Volker, the town’s official nurse, medical examiner, and obituary writer, all skills which come in handy during this particular summer as Norvelt seems to be plagued by a string of deaths…

Dead End in Norvelt is not just about a boy in the summer between childhood and young adulthood, it’s also about the (hi)story of a town, and the way in which different people look at how history influences our world views. Jack’s mom, for instance, is nostalgic about the town’s past community spirit, when neighbors used to help out each other when they needed it most and through her bartering, she desperately clings to the customs of the past. Jack’s dad on the other hand feels it’s time to move on from the past – something which is even quite literally mentioned in the novel with so many houses literally being picked up and moved to other more thriving towns. Because lots of families are leaving Norvelt, and many of the original Norvelt residents are dying, Miss Volker feels that part of her job is to keep the history of Norvelt alive. In addition to being a nurse and an ME, she’s also the unofficial town historian, linking the death of a Norveltian (?) to events that happened in history, at the same time also teaching  Jack how to respect the past.

This insistence on the importance of history is also what contributed to Dead End in Norvelt not just winning the Newbery Medal, but also the Scott O’Dell Award for Historical Fiction. Dead End in Norvelt deftly combines the history of a boy with the history of a whole community, appealing to a person’s feelings of nostalgia.  What Gantos also manages to do is whipping up an array of unusual characters, which adds a layer of (often black) humor to the mystery of the deaths in Norvelt. Of course, Miss Volker is the one who stands out here (the scene in which Jack witnesses what happens to her hands is legendary!!), but there are other characters who add to the colorful mix: Bunny, Jack’s friend who’s the daughter of the town’s undertaker and  Mr  Spizz, who rides around on his giant tricycle, reporting people to the council, and then there’s also that Hell’s Angel… Add to these characters, Jack’s penchant for getting nosebleeds whenever he gets stressed (looking at him the wrong way might even set it off), Jack Gantos’ offhand way of writing without missing a beat, and this is a novel that will make you chuckle, wonder and reminisce about your own town’s past, and which is a deserved award winner.

Even though Dead End in Norvelt won the Newbery Medal (target audience: children), this is a wildly funny, in that tragic-comical way, book that will appeal not just to (middle grade) kids, but to many young adults and the somewhat older adults out there.